Familiar
by Irihi B.W
Summary: The little things were too familiar to be ignored, even if the bigger picture was obviously more important. But he never really cared much about that it seemed. Squall/Zidane, collection of connected shounen-ai oneshots.
1. Familiar

How many times has it been? If anything could be taken for truth out of the mouths of Chaos' gits, then this wasn't the first time he stepped on this battlefield. He knew that, but it always felt like a first time. Despite familiarity, there was still that 'fresh' feeling of entering a new, mysterious battle. He had no prior information other than what his Goddess bestowed upon him, and what little memory he had of the previous battles. But how many battles has it been? A few, a dozen, a hundred? Maybe he went through a thousand of them, always fighting, always dying, and somehow here he was… never remembering.

The only thing he remembered with any clarity was the people around him. He remembered the warrior who took the lead effortlessly and without argument. He remembered the conflicted man and the girl with confidence issues; the boy who thought he knew it all and the teen with a father complex; he remembered the kid whose mimic abilities was only amazing in combat and the guy who could use any basic weapon with no effort. He even remembered the guy whose scrawny arms managed to lift a sword bigger than he and was just like him, in terms of personality… and who could forget the monkey-boy with a fickle desire to snatch anything within a twenty foot range? Sometimes he remembered names… most of the times, not really. All he knew for sure was that these were the same unfortunate souls that shared the same unfortunate circumstance of being a powerless puppet in a game of war between two deities that couldn't do their own damn dirty work.

Squall wouldn't say that to Cosmos herself, though. As a mercenary, he took the job, did it, got his reward and went home. If he looked at it like that, then existence in this twisted world was bearable, because it almost felt like home. Defeat Chaos; get his memories and the ticket back to Balamb. It was simple, straight forward, and he could focus without thinking too hard of what the implications were… especially since he kept coming back to this. This place, these people, this conflict, this part of his life that wasn't normal but somehow still felt 'right' just as much as it was, truly, so very wrong. Was this his only future, to fight conflict after conflict? To be killed, to kill, and return to repeat the process indefinitely?

Was that all there was to this world his soul was irrevocably tied to? Endless war, endless despair, endless doubt… always clinging to such a faint hope to the point of near insanity? Squall hated the unknown, hated the mystery. He wanted solid information, solid foundation of which to fight his battles, on his terms. A real mercenary did whatever he or she could to turn to the tables to their favor, whatever earned the best reward, and if the tables couldn't turn, then they smashed the damn thing and wrote the rules themselves. Garden raised strong soldiers. But it didn't raise them off hopes and promises.

The only reward Squall found in this hellhole was the friendships he forged with the other Cosmos soldiers, even if he forgot them later on. And even that 'reward' was a fleeting one.

"You're brooding! _Again_!"

Friendship was a strained word, though, and Zidane sure knew how to further strain it out of him.

"I'm _thinking_," Squall looked down from the starry sky, annoyed someone came to interrupt him.

Zidane was standing over him, and yet, Squall noted with amusement that even sitting down he came to Zidane's neck. He had to be one of the shortest being on the universe, although he figured maybe all the growth hormones went to that crazy tail of his.

The aforementioned tail was twitching crazily, as if impatient, and Zidane didn't seem to really be controlling it at all. The man wore his heart on his sleeve, and Squall made a living analyzing people: he was bored, yes, but not impatient. Maybe he really didn't have control over that thing outside of using it to hang off stuff.

"If it's something depressive, than you're _brooding_," Zidane hopped up, tail grabbed onto a branch so he hung face to face with Squall. "Why don't you sit with us? Even _Cloud_ sits with us."

"Cloud has the talent of tuning you out; he's yet to teach me it." Squall replied sarcastically, his tone borderline scathing. He had nothing personal against Zidane… but he _hated_ interruptions.

"Tuning _me_ or _everyone_?" Zidane sounded a little hurt, but he was grinning. Squall batted at him, and Zidane swung out of the way. "Don't be like that, Squall! I thought we bonded over the whole Bartz rescue?"

"Having you attached to my hip in desperation because you felt bad over his capture was bonding?"

"Ouch, that hurt." But the thief was still grinning. "But seriously, Squall, I hate seein' ya over here all alone."

"I'm fine," he didn't want to get started on this particular topic.

Zidane swung slightly from the branch, arms crossed. "I know you are, but you look so… _lonely_!"

Squally swatted him again and Zidane swung away. However, he couldn't stop himself from swinging back right into Squall's open palm. His nose was squashed unpleasantly and he whined, bringing his hands up to cover his poor nose and, although Squall didn't smile, his eyes held amusement, and Zidane didn't like being the butt of someone's joke.

With some acrobatics he vaguely remembering he practiced at some point, Zidane flipped over the branch, released it, and landed into Squall's lap. The mercenary winced as Zidane's bottom landed right on his thigh, but luckily the thief didn't weigh much. Something familiar, of someone just plopping themselves in his lap like this, arose in him. Especially when one of Zidane's hands grabbed his shoulder, and that playful grin was on his face.

"That _hurt_," Zidane whined. "You shouldn't be so _cruel_, Squall."

Squall rolled his eyes. "You need to be smacked once in a while." He jerked his head to the side. "Now, if you don't mind…"

"I'm comfy now!" if the lazy, happy way his tail glided was any indication of that truth, "What, aren't you? I didn't land on anything bad… but you need to eat more! Your thigh is so bony…"

Did he not realize their given position? "Zidane. Maybe where you come from it isn't odd, but for me, two men like this is awkward. I'm _not_ comfortable."

Zidane seemed to think that over before his usual grin returned. "You know what they say, you gotta step out of your comfort zone!" as if that made all the difference, he actually curled up closer.

"This isn't a step…" Squall muttered. More like a jump off the highest cliff. "_Zidane_. I don't want to _throw_ you…"

"You mean, throw me over your shoulder and kidnap me deeper into the woods to have your demented, twisted way with me?" and yet, he said all that while grinning cheerfully.

Squall stared at him, at the grin, and felt like smacking him again. "You're something else."

"I know. So, I'm gonna keep you company, like this, til you agree to come sit with the rest of us for the rest of the time we're here!"

Squall arched an eyebrow. "I'll just hide somewhere less obvious."

Zidane had a look that made Squall believe his next statement. "But I'll _find_ you."

Something in that made Squall pause, because it was familiar. Was it a memory for his world? Or did he and Zidane have this conversation, this prospect, before?

What if he and Zidane…? They always ended up together somehow. Maybe…

_That's preposterous._

_Oh, but it makes seeeense._

Squall suddenly snagged Zidane's lazily moving tail, and the thief went rigid in his lap. "You can move, or I'll do something to this you may not like."

Zidane wasn't one to lose, so he actually leered at Squall. "What if I like it?"

He expected Squall to let the tail go, but instead, the man slowly ran his hand down it til almost do the base, where it connected to Zidane's backside. He shivered as the fur was rubbed in the wrong direction, but although it was somewhat unpleasant, there was a sort of familiarity to it. Someone was fond to doing that to him often… was it Squall? He seemed to enjoy himself.

Zidane wrapped his tail around Squall's arm, the tip of it thumping against his bicep. "You're stuck now," the thief said with a strange triumph in his tone.

"Am I?"

Zidane settled himself further in Squall's lap. "Yep."

And that was that. Squall said nothing else, just rested his arm against Zidane's back and gazed at the sky. The blond expected to feel the itch to move, to be free, but he found a sort of calming quiet sitting with Squall. Something seemed okay about sitting with the brunette under a starry sky, like a feeling of closeness he'd be missing finally being appeased. Maybe Squall felt the same.

"And if I never go sit with the others?" Squall suddenly asked.

Zidane shrugged. "Then you're stuck."

Squall went back to thinking, but Zidane had a feeling it wasn't whatever it was earlier. And in that, he was victorious, so he grinned.


	2. Familiar Still

When Zidane said he was going to do something, he did it. Didn't matter if it was something as big as saving the world or as little as taking out the garbage—if you got the monkey's word, you were guaranteed to see it happen. So when Zidane quite promptly fell asleep in Squall's lap, that tail still wrapped tightly (and possessively, the mercenary noted) around his arm, Squall was not in the least bit surprised. He said he'd stay there, and there he stayed. Squall was, in so many words, stuck.

But he knew he couldn't stay out here for too long, else the others would worry and possibly scatter trying to find them. Not wanting to be the reason idiots got hurt—and Squall meant that as fondly as possible—he resolved to wake Zidane up and get back to the campsite.

"Zidane," Squall said, loudly, right in the smaller man's ear.

Zidane maybe twitched. Slightly annoyed, Squall jostled him a bit, calling his name, yet either Zidane was ignoring him or really slept like a dead man.

The mercenary wasn't the type to keep trying if it was obviously hopeless. He could only hope by the time he carried the brat back to camp, the tail would have loosened and he could dump Zidane in his tent. With a possibly dramatic sigh, Squall shifted Zidane and stood, carrying the thief bridal style all the way back.

He made it back just in time, because it looked like the Warrior of Light was about to send out his minions—pardon, their comrades—to go looking. Upon reaching the central fire, a collective sigh seemed to ring out, and Squall's brow ticked only once.

"We were getting worried," Cecil said. Stating the obvious was Cecil's way of trying to avoid asking the _real_ obvious question. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," Squall grunted. "I'm just going to drop him off."

"Is he okay?" Bartz was making a beeline right for them, and Squall thought he saw jealousy in the boy's eyes.

"He's just asleep,"

"I'll take him, we're sharing a tent," Bartz held his arms out, but when Squall didn't move, his smile only barely faltered. "It's okay, I got him."

Squall grunted again. "If I could pass him to you, I would." He turned slightly, showing Zidane's tail still tightly coiled around his arm. "As it is, I think he's trying to break my arm."

Tidus snickered from his seat near Cloud, and Squall noted how close he was sitting to the usually brooding swordsmen. "Guess he'll be sharing a tent with Squall, Bartz," when Bartz looked at him, Squall guessed he glared, because Tidus started to cackle.

Cloud elbowed him off their log and Tidus pitched over with a yelp. Squall quickly excused himself before some weird bonding moment happened, as it usually seemed to happen, and stalked off to his tent with Zidane in tow. Bartz followed with his eyes, and only when everyone else was watching did he finally frown.

Squall used his foot to open his tent, ducking into it. He dumped Zidane onto the sleeping mat, and only then did the thief wake up with a short gasp and his hands grabbing onto Squall's jacket.

Once more stuck, Squall sighed. "You can let go."

Zidane glanced around quickly before he relaxed, and although he let go of the jacket, his tail remained stubbornly attached. "Guess I… passed out, eh?" he beamed, as if such an expression made it all okay.

Squall flicked at the tail. "Bartz is waiting for you, I'm sure. Guess he can't stand being apart from his thief friend."

Zidane rolled his eyes, although Squall barely saw it in the darkness of the tent. "He'll live."

"That wasn't an invitation for you to share mine." Squall glared, but Zidane was of course unfazed.

The blond grinned. "Aw, c'mon Squall, you could use the company."

"Not really."

Zidane grabbed Squall's jacket again, and before the mercenary could break free Zidane jerked him back. Squall grunted when he moved his arms instinctively on either side of Zidane's head to break the short fall, the sharp pain of landing on his forearms fading once he realized how he was now.

Zidane had a thing for making people uncomfortable. "_Zidane_…" Squall warned.

"You know, Bartz has a _thing_ for me," Zidane said nonchalantly, letting go of the jacket with one hand to trace lazy light patterns on Squall's shirt. "I have nothing against guys and that, and Bartz is a good guy, don't get me wrong… but, you know, he's a little too much like me to be my type."

"Go talk to a wall about this, Zidane." Because Squall was only slightly afraid of where this was going, and it was bringing back all his earlier thoughts.

"You're just as responsive as a wall, so I think I'll stay." _Zinged by the thief._ "But yeah, I'm not sure how to let the kid down gently. Cause, well, we're from different worlds, too alike… and frankly, I think I just discovered I got a special connection with someone else."

Squall actually rolled his eyes. Why was he always right? "Just because I let you sit in my lap and carried you back, doesn't make us boyfriends."

"Is that the term to use? I wasn't sure. But," Zidane leaned close, and Squall leaned back slightly. "You can't say you didn't feel something. C'mon, I'm good at reading people. You went from uncomfortable to at ease way too quickly."

"… that still doesn't make us boyfriends, or invites you to share a cot."

"But there's something there!" now he let a little bit of a whine in his voice. It sounded familiar to Squall… having someone whine at him. "We got something, Squall. I wasn't keen into guys until I realized the more I hung around you, the more I felt… felt familiar. Like being near you is right. Somethin' about you strikes me as, 'Yeah, you've done that with him before. And it was good.'"

Squall rolled away as much as he could, given that damn tail. "This is way too much like a stupid book or something," he grumbled. "Zidane, I'm not going to think, 'Oh, yeah, that makes sense' and blurt out some random, stupid confession of heartfelt love. So quit aiming for that."

"I'm _not_," Zidane stressed, rolling so he was on top of Squall. The brunette looked uncomfortable, but at the same time, not in a way that meant he better move. Settling himself to carefully straddle Squall's stomach, Zidane crossed his arms. "I'm building up to asking you to think over it. And, if it feels right… then yeah. I'd like to pick up where we left off, wherever it was. I hate leaving things unfinished."

"What's the point?" Squall asked, even if it seemed that question brought a little hurt to the thief's face. "We lose our memories, or we go back to our homeworlds… so, really, Zidane, this is fruitless and pointless. It'll end badly."

Zidane looked absolutely crestfallen, and such a look did not befit the usually cheerful blond at all. But as bad as Squall felt, he meant the words. Slowly, Zidane lowered himself until he rested his head on Squall's chest, lying on him, fists gripping his shirt. Squall didn't move, didn't hug him or anything… but didn't push him aside either. Because it felt familiar to have someone resting on him.

"For our sanity. Our hope. No use hiding feelings, y'know? It makes stuff worse, hiding it all… And, if we forget, well… well, that's life. We gotta enjoy what moments we got, good or bad. Never know when it's the last. If we go home and remember, I'll keep them as good memories, cause that's exactly what they'd be. Good memories of a guy I honestly cared for and will miss all my life."

Squall knew Zidane was a suave talker, saying all the sweet little things to make girls swoon. But he was no girl, Zidane knew he hated stupid sweet speeches, and Squall saw all sorts of flaws and flukes in such a way of thinking. But one point Zidane had right was that hiding things, especially feelings, made things worse.

He didn't know what, but Squall remembered hiding an intense feeling before. And because he hid it, he lost it. And he only knew regret from such a moment…

The brunette sighed deeply, raising one wrist to drape over his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. "I'll think about it, Zidane. But moreso than me, you have something else to take care of. Namely that crush you mentioned Bartz having."

"That can wait til morning," Zidane said, a bit hurriedly, hopefully. It was almost… cute. "If… you'll let me stay."

"… whatever. Go to sleep."

Zidane grinned, although Squall didn't see it. Contently the thief curled up against him, and not ten minutes passed before he was asleep. Squall remembered reading somewhere, that cats showed true trust and felt truly safe when they slept on or close to humans. Zidane was more like a monkey than a cat, but nonetheless, the thought made Squall smile just a tad.

How to explain this in the morning, he had no idea.


	3. Familiarity

Squall let Zidane do the talking when Tidus—thank Hyne it was Tidus—did the usual wake up routine of bursting into people's tents and screaming. Tidus had the most hilarious look on his face, a cross between horror and giddy amusement, when he busted into Squall's tent to find him sprawled on the ground, Zidane lying on top of him. Thankfully, both men were awake, so they weren't _that_ scared out of their skin.

Zidane pulled some bullshit story about how his tail just wouldn't let Squall go and he had really passed out from so much stress and wariness, even let his voice drop and tail drag limply for good measure. He made a show of thanking Squall for taking care of him and not abandoning him out in the woods, how sorry he was for the awkwardness (Squall took notice of the completely unapologetic mischievous glint in the blond's eyes, though) and that he owed Squall. He even made it so dramatic and theatric, they had somehow moved from the tent to the middle of camp so everyone heard.

How he pulled that off, Squall was still puzzling over well into the afternoon, when the party decided to stop at a stream for a break.

Bartz had dragged Zidane off for something or other, and although the Warrior of Light sent Cloud to keep an eye on them, Squall was fairly sure they'd lose the spikey-haired mercenary pretty easily. He had to wonder if Bartz was acting on his jealousy.

Probably. Most kids didn't react well to their crushes not only sleeping in someone else's tent, but on them.

"Uhm… Squall?"

The brunette tilted his head up, careful to avoid looking up Terra's skirt. The girl looked over her shoulder cautiously before kneeling down next to him, a bit of distress on her face. Squall had nothing against Terra—he kind of liked her shy, quiet strength—and so he made sure he didn't give her the usual cold look he gave everyone else.

"The Onion Knight is doing patrol, but Warrior said we'll leave once he and the other three get back… and I…" she actually blushed, looking away, but Squall decided to be patient. "Well, I really need a bath, but…"

"You need someone to guard you," Squall finished. After an embarrassed moment, he added, "Who also won't peek."

Terra nodded furiously. "N-nothing again Cecil or Tidus or anyone… just…"

Squall couldn't blame her. Warrior of Light was too busy acting leader—not to mention he might try to lecture her over something—Tidus would _definitely_ try to peek, Cecil was just a bit too strange… and who knew where the hell Firion went.

"You can't take too long," Squall said.

"I don't intend to." She gave him a small smile, and Squall nodded. "Thank you."

They didn't go too far from camp, close enough to rush back if something happened but far enough to give Terra her needed privacy. Squall put himself into plain view for her, but of course he had his back to her. For good measure, he leaned against a tree, half hidden by its trunk. Terra made some sort of grateful noise, and Squall blocked out the sounds of her undressing and wading into the stream.

He did nearly look when he heard a spell go off, but after hearing Terra sigh in comfort, he figured she had been the one to cast it. Now dragged away from the others, and sort of left to his own devices, Squall did was he did best—think.

He actually wanted to think about other things, like his coming battle with Chaos, but damned if he couldn't quit picturing Zidane's pleading face from the night before. Squall snorted quietly, leaning his head back against the tree and staring at the sky.

Think about it? What the hell was there to think about? Squall stood by his word—hiding feelings aside, any relationship cultivated here, beyond friendship, was a waste of time and effort. In the best case scenario, they won the conflict for Cosmos and went home, _separated_. Worst case, they lost their memories and vanished… again, _separated_.

At the same time, Squall couldn't deny a sort of familiarity, a sense of right, when around the blond boy. His optimism was something that balanced Squall, something the mercenary remembered at one point having all the time. A check point, a light to his dark, a smile to his frown… yeah, Squall could remember having that balance. But was it with Zidane?

Maybe it was a memory of his homeworld, but if so, why did it only trigger with Zidane? Why not with Tidus, or even Terra?

Squall _hated_ having questions with no answers to match. The unknown was such _bullshit_, and Garden had taught him to never approach a battle he didn't have enough intel to win. But how could he approach this problem with Zidane when the information required him to dive head first? Stupid loop battles—that felt familiar too.

Squall sighed heavily, but Terra sloshing out of the stream covered the sound. He heard clothes rustling, a few plops into the water, and Terra muttering to herself as it sounded like she was washing her garments. He didn't bother reprimanding her—clothing drying by sunlight would take far too long—as he wanted to think some more.

He couldn't ignore Zidane, or the feelings associated with him, for long. No one could ignore Zidane, the brat was too loud and intrusive for that… but the obvious connection was also going to intrude, and with the way his mind was running rampart, Squall couldn't afford having this in the air when they all finally went their ways to their battles.

Most likely, in the typical thief fashion, Zidane will pay a visit to Squall tonight. He needed something to tell him by then.

"I'm done, Squall!" he heard Terra's footsteps as she jogged to him.

Glancing over, he noticed Terra's clothes were slightly different, a deeper red dress and her stockings gone. He assumed the bundled cape in her arms were her still damp clothes, but if she was ready to go, they would go.

"Thank you so much," Terra said in that innocent, charming way of hers.

"Don't mention it," Squall said, heading toward camp without another word. The magical woman happily walked a bit behind him, spirits high.

If only a bath would cheer him up. Some people had it so easy…

* * *

If Squall got a typical SeeD rank one paycheck each time he was right about Zidane, he'd be richer than any President. He'd probably have enough gil to make his own high-tech city… whatever it was called on his homeworld. E-something.

In any case, Squall didn't bother actually sleeping that night. Around two or three in the morning he heard footsteps coming up to his tent—probably made on purpose—and was sitting up when Zidane entered his tent.

For once Zidane respected his personal space, sliding into the tent and sitting across from Squall with a rather plain look on his face. The brunette didn't offer to be first to speak, and considering he had a million times more patience than Zidane, the silence didn't last long.

"Talked to Bartz," Zidane muttered. "At first he denied it, but eventually owned up to it. Now we're cool, he understands."

Well, if Squall ever was insane enough to pursue Zidane, that would be nice. But Squall wasn't insane. "All right."

Zidane fidgeted, wondering if Squall was playing some perverse game. "S-so…" he coughed. Wooing a girl was one thing—wooing a guy that was obviously more 'guy' than him was totally different. "Have you…"

"Yeah," Squall grunted. "All damn day, if that makes you feel better."

"Any… progress?" Zidane's tail swayed in the air, a little agitated. The poor kid looked so nervous, even Squall could admit it was cute.

"Other than still believing it'd be a waste of time and effort?"

_Ow!_ "Why do you gotta do that?" Zidane asked, a bit of a temper rising. He even jumped to his feet, the top of his head barely hitting the high point of the tent. "Always shoot me down, always knock down any sort of positive aspect?" his tail was ramrod straight, a sure sign he really was mad. "I care you about you, man! More than I should, and more than you deserve, you asshole! The least you could do is at least acknowledge it as something positive! Anything that makes you happy… even for a second… is never a waste!"

Zidane was getting red-faced, and Squall actually felt like chuckling. But he withheld the urge, instead leaning back against a pack of supplies and giving Zidane a critical look. "Sit down," he ordered.

Zidane bristled, but he didn't say to get out, so the thief didn't push his luck. He sat down with a thump, looking forlorn, hurt, and angry.

"You're so hot-headed," Squall said, "always moving, always raving around. You won't sit still and think. You constantly move, constantly jump to conclusion and act on emotion more than intelligence. You're the exact opposite of me, the most annoying damn kind."

Jeez, the guy knew how to throw metaphorical punches, but Zidane let him continue on. Squall tilted his head back with a deep inhale of air before going on with, "But, it's a counter-balance. And I know I always had a counter-balance to me, someone opposite of me that I found beyond annoying, but I couldn't live without. Is it you? Hell if I know, but you have a similar affect."

Zidane peered at him, daring to hope. "So…"

"This goes against everything I was taught, but at the same time, I have to know. So, fine. We'll 'pick up where we left off.' But I have ground rules, and if you break one, I'm backing out of this."

Spoken like a mercenary, even relationships were like jobs to them. But Zidane figured he could break Squall out of that, given time. "Okay, shoot."

The mercenary held up a hand, counting the rules off with his fingers, "I do _not_ do public displays of affections. I will not hug you, kiss you, or hold your hand around others."

Zidane felt a little cheated at that, but he should have expected it. "Done."

Squall raised another finger, "I don't flaunt personal affairs out in the open. What happens between us stays between us."

Well, that was a given. What sort of people did Squall think he was? "Done."

And there was more, "Don't expect special treatment from me. I'm not going to haggle with Warrior to give you extra potions or things of that nature."

Zidane had to speak up, "Squall, I'm becoming your _boyfriend_, not your _client_."

"I'm aware of that," Squall waved a hand in the air.

The blond was pretty sure he wasn't, but he now had the chance to change the man for the better. Seeming to be done with his rules, Zidane slowly crawled over to him. Although Squall didn't move, just followed him with his eyes, he didn't make any indication for Zidane to stop. Just short of crawling on top of him, Zidane hesitantly pressed his lips against Squall's.

At first Squall didn't respond, but when Zidane refused to pull away, the mercenary lifted one hand to press against the back of the blond's head. Ever so slightly deepening the kiss, Squall tangled his fingers in the golden locks for a moment before haltingly running his hand through the hair until he met the resistance of the thief's hair tie.

The awkward but satisfying kiss ended, and Squall tugged the hair tie out. Zidane's hair spread along his back, and although it made him look a touch more feminine, it was charming, and Squall decided another rule would be that Zidane should wear his hair loose in moments like these.

"So what _can_ I do to make sure it's known you're mine?" Zidane murmured.

Possessiveness always made Squall feel stifled, but he supposed he could put up with a bit of it. "I'll have to sleep on that."

Cue that charming smile. "Can I sleep on you while you do that?"

Squall rolled his eyes, but he shifted the pack he leaned on back and laid down, pulling Zidane down as well. If anyone came busting in tomorrow, well, that'd solve the 'get it known' issue Zidane had.

Zidane snuggled close, tail winding around Squall's arm again. Squall figured he'd find that annoying, but… he sort of liked the double assurance, it was becoming rather endearing. That, or Squall was getting soft, either or.

"Good night," Zidane muttered.

"Good night," Squall answered, and that was that.


	4. Not So Familiar

**Author's Note: **Thanks for the reviews thus far! I didn't expect this fic to become longer than a chapter but... here's a fourth. XD These scenes are more for cuteness/checking up on how the couple progresses than much else, really.

_However_, after this chapter, any other updates are going to be more centered around **the 12th Cycle**, aka, **Dissidia 012**. I'd make a new fic, but the 'familiar' theme is still central, and seems redunant to make into a new fic. Don't worry, I'll find a way to differ the Cycles. You can think of them as flashback chapters if you want.

Plus, who doesn't giggle at the idea of Squall knowing Laguna is his dad, and Zidane wanting to do the 'proper' thing and meet his boyfriend's daddy?

* * *

Zidane always was 'monkey' to people, even to his comrades. He always got into trouble, jumped around—hell, he was the best fighter when he was in the air—and of course, the tail that could support his weight. Squall figured if he ever came up with some sort of endearing nickname for Zidane, it'd be monkey-related.

As Squall mindlessly scratched the base of his tail, however, he was thinking something along the lines of 'kitten' were more appropriate.

Squall turned another page in his book, alternating between scratching and rubbing the base of Zidane's tail. Regardless of the proximity of his bottom, Squall found it more like he had a giant housecat living in his tent at night as opposed to an eventual lover.

"Are you really enjoying this that much?" Squall eventually asked, flipping the page again.

Zidane's reply was a highly pleasured sigh, his arms around Squall's bunched up jacket tightening as he further buried his face into the leather. Glancing at the blond, Squall began to rapidly scratch the base of the tail, and to his great amusement, Zidane _did_ start arching his back and rising his butt into the air, tail languidly stretching up.

Squall supposed he should be happy to have discovered this, as accidental as it was. Zidane had, as usual for the past few nights, snuck into his tent and collapsed onto his cot while Squall did some nightly reading. The blond complained of an achy back and, not really listening and just wanting to read, Squall reached out and started rubbing Zidane's back. The thief must've shifted or something, because eventually Squall's hand ended up down near his tail, and only Zidane thumping to the ground in complete relaxation (the moan surely didn't do it) got the mercenary's attention.

It had been nearly an hour, and Zidane had not moved or wanted to be rubbed anywhere else. He was perfectly happy where he was, and now that Squall knew, he kept the information filed away in his mind. If Zidane ever got mad at him, or was too hyperactive, all he had to do was treat him like a cat and the thief was calm and happy.

Zidane's rear couldn't get any higher in the air without Squall's hand slipping away or rising off his knees. Despite the rather… compromising… pose he was in, Zidane continued to sigh and snuggle the jacket, his tail alternating between curling and straightening. Definitely more like a cat than a monkey.

But Squall was only human, and eventually he felt like he was getting a cramp in his hand. Knowing the moment he stopped Zidane would spring into action, he first closed and put away his reading material, then withdrew the scratching hand.

There was a comical several seconds of confused silence and stillness from Zidane before he realized what, exactly, he was doing. He lifted his head, looked at Squall, then behind to see his butt so inappropriately in the air; Zidane blushed furiously, dropped full to the ground and rolled onto his side, facing Squall, still holding the jacket.

"That wasn't nice," Zidane accused, half-glaring.

"I do believe you enjoyed it," Squall retorted, waving at the candle-lantern. A bit of cold magic extinguished the light, and letting only the wispy remnants of moonlight keep them from total darkness.

Then again, anything was lighter than the pure darkness they all briefly experienced when Cosmos perished…

Squall shook his head at that memory, shaking it away. It seemed Zidane had a similar thought process, but he couldn't quite dispel it as easily. He moved to Squall, a hand grasping the mercenary's shirt; Squall noticed it was shaking, and after a moment of consideration, covered that hand with one of his own. It was almost no surprise they rested over Squall's heart.

"I don't…" Zidane breathed, the lack of 'real' light now hushing his usual loud volume. "I don't ever want to go back there…"

"No one will," Squall replied, just as quietly, but more surely as he laid himself down next to the blond. "Go to sleep, Zidane."

Zidane moved a bit so he half-rested on Squall, and the mercenary wrapped an arm around him more for his own comfort than the thief's. In the faint light, Squall could see Zidane's tail was swinging back and forth in the air, as if agitated.

Several minutes ticked by, but even though he felt tired, Squall couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. A quick peek downward revealed Zidane had the same issue—he was staring rather intensely at the entrance of the tent, as if trying to mentally command it to do something. Squall slowly trailed his eyes back upwards, staring at the tent ceiling for several minutes more. Zidane never relaxed in sleep, and Squall wasn't really sure why that bothered him so damn much.

"Why won't you go to sleep?" Squall suddenly asked, making Zidane jerk a bit.

The thief lifted his head enough to look at Squall. "Why don't _you_?"

"Because I can't." typically, straight-forward and simple answers distracted Zidane.

But this time, it just made the blond thief smirk. "How about a bedtime story?" he moved himself so he lay on his back, head on Squall's chest and staring up at the ceiling as Squall rolled his eyes. "Once upon a time…"

"Spare me, Zidane."

"Once upon a time, there was a man, who didn't know where he came from," Zidane clasped his hands over his stomach, eyes skyward. "Ever since he was a brat, he wanted to know where he came from. It was obvious he wasn't from where he grew up—he looked too different. Didn't belong, you know."

Squall frowned. He knew what Zidane was doing—it was more than obvious—but he had thought there were plenty of people like Zidane on his homeworld. It was his home, after all; but Squall remained silent. It was obvious Zidane had recovered memories during the fighting thus far, and now that he had someone special, he needed to share them in his own, weird way.

"He remembered his birthplace only in his dreams—kinda funny, right? But if he found it, maybe he'd find others like him, find his parents, find out why he was abandoned, so far away from home…"

Squall felt a bit of a twinge at that. He didn't remember much of his own home… but Squall remembered he was also an orphan. Still he remained quiet, listening, even closing his eyes.

"So one day, he decided he wanted to go on a quest to find the answer," Zidane continued.

Squall decided he'd be a little more interactive in this, "With no hint of where to go? I assume he got lost and wandered around, eventually forgetting what he was doing in the first place."

"Hey, hey, hey, this is _my_ bedtime story," Zidane chastised. "And he _had_ a clue—a blue light he saw in his dreams."

"That's not a clue, that's a hallucination."

"It _is_ a clue. Maybe it was an ocean, you never know!" Zidane frowned a bit. "A big, blue expansive ocean… maybe it was a magic city, with blue walls or… or something."

Squall didn't mean to actually upset Zidane, so he let the silliness drop. "So, did he find it?"

The thief rolled over so he laid on Squall, arms folded on the mercenary's chest, chin resting on the back of his layered hands. "You're jumping ahead, all sorts of things happened along the quest!" at the look Squall gave him, Zidane grinned. "Fine, fine, we'll skip ahead. Nah, he never found it. Cause you're right—a colored light, really? So he went back to the home of his adoptive father… guess what he did."

"Beat the living crap out of him."

Zidane's grin grew. "Hey, you're right," at the slightly surprised expression on Squall's face, the thief snickered. "He beat him for what seemed like hours… and then the cocky jerk smiled afterwards! Yet, you know, that smile told the man something. That, it doesn't matter where you're born… what matters is what _you_ believe, feel, is your home."

"How touching," Squall said, keeping his voice neutral. "So he gave up learning where he came from?"

"Naw," Zidane's tail made its home around Squall's waist as he spoke, "He still wants to know. One can't help but wonder why he or she gets dumped where they don't belong."

Squall was silent for a few minutes, and Zidane rested his head down. Before he could utter the usual 'good night' to end their usual nocturnal conversations, Squall surprised him by speaking.

"You make the place where you belong," Squall muttered. "It's the place you return to no matter where you go."

"Home," Zidane breathed the word like it was holy.

"Something," Squall agreed, then wrapped his arms around Zidane. "Good night."

Zidane smiled, closing his eyes. "Good night." And this time, he finally went to sleep.

* * *

"We're getting closer to Chaos…" Zidane muttered as he walked with Squall, Bartz not far ahead of them.

"That's the point," Squall retorted. But his snappiness was a comfort to Zidane—it was something that was 'Squall' and constant, and in this screwed up world, Zidane needed something stable. Count on Squall to be a jerk, even to his boyfriend.

"Kuja, too…" Zidane was much quieter at that, but Squall was trained to hear soft tones. He stopped walking, looking at his shorter companion. Zidane also stopped, and Bartz kept walking, oblivious.

"Then you kill him," Squall said, matter of fact tone to boot. "You nearly did it before, why worry now?"

Zidane looked away sigh a deep sigh. "Cause I don't want to kill him."

The first thing Squall felt was shock, naturally. Then he felt a little angry. "Why _not_?"

The blond looked back up at his boyfriend's tone of voice, and sighed again. "I'm kinda like Cecil."

Oh.

Well that explained a bit, and Squall awkwardly hooked his thumbs in the free belt loops of his pants. "But at least Cecil's brother isn't _obviously_ trying to kill him. Kuja's pretty adamant in getting rid of you."

"But _why_?" Zidane asked, loud enough to make Bartz realize they had stopped walking. As the mime ran back to them, Zidane was going on, "What bit Cecil remembers and told me, Golbez is just retarded and has some inferiority complex. But why does Kuja hate me? I don't remember…"

"But he does," Squall interjected. "And he can't resolve the hate, so you have to do it for him."

Zidane was stupid to think Squall would actually comfort him over this, but it still sort of stung at the way Squall spoke. But it was daylight, 'public' and in the open… Squall was Squall during such a time, and Zidane would have to wait til nightfall before he'd get any sort of compassion beyond friendship.

"What's up, guys?" Bartz inquired as he got back to them.

Zidane only briefly hung his head before forcing himself to brighten up. "Nothin'! Let's keep goin'."

Bartz looked skeptical at the obvious forced cheerfulness, but he didn't do well with confrontations, so he let it go. Squall, however, looked positively miffed at Zidane's attempt to be cheery.

He marched right up to the thief, stomping his feet to get the blond's attention. Zidane stopped and looked over his shoulder, barely avoiding a cringe when he saw Squall's hand going for him. Zidane felt that hand plop on his head, and when he hesitantly looked up, Squall had a rather hilarious yet serious look on his face.

"You said," Squall muttered, "that we shouldn't hide anything. So if you're upset, then show it. Don't put up a front for our sake."

Zidane bit the inside of his lower lip, and he cautiously looked at Bartz. His best friend was smiling, beaming almost, and flashed a thumb up. Zidane looked back toward Squall, but stared at his stomach, unsure of how, exactly, to express how he really felt. He was Zidane after all, feeling in the dumps was just… not _right_.

"Thanks," he muttered, stepping forward and pressing his forehead against Squall's chest. "Can we just… sit here for a minute?"

"Sure!" Bartz agreed, rather hastily. "I'll… uhm… hey, you two relax and I'll go patrol."

"Wait, Bar—" Squall's protest went to the air, for the young man was gone as quick as the wind he liked to compare himself to. Squall sighed heavily, but he had to have faith in Bartz.

Thus alone (although, now that he thought about it, Squall probably figured Bartz was just hiding, not actually _gone_) Squall dropped his body to the ground. Zidane yelped, unprepared for the movement, sprawling against Squall's chest in an ungraceful heap.

"I admit, this is uncharacteristic of me," Squall said as he kept Zidane in his arms. "But you bring that out in me."

"Yay?"

The mercenary sighed. "You're going to get hurt if you can't focus, and you can't focus if you're upset. This is obviously something that can't be fixed easily, but… I'm here. So, if I can help, say so, don't hide it."

Zidane looked up at him, and this time when he smiled, Squall was glad to see it was real. "Being here with me helps. Thanks."

"You may think I don't put much into it, but I am your boyfriend. I'm an ass, but that doesn't mean I'm a bad boyfriend."

That was so ridiculous, Zidane had to laugh. But it made the creeping doom feel less like doom and the blond truly appreciated Squall trying. A small part of him was triumphant as well—the few days they were together, and already Zidane was making Squall a better person. He had no idea how a final confrontation between he and his brother would go, but he had Squall, and it made everything easier.

"You can come out, Bartz," Squall suddenly called.

Zidane harrumphed. "No, stay away for a little longer!"

"Aw… I feel unwanted." Bartz complained from somewhere, but he kept away, at least for another few minutes.

A considerate, badass boyfriend and a funny, awesome best friend. Really, why was Zidane ever depressed?


	5. 12th Cycle

**Author's Note:** Just a reminder we are now in **the 12th Cycle, Dissidia 012** timeline. =) I admit I have not completely finished D.012, in terms of the re-make of the original game or the reports, so I'll be taking a lot of creative lisences. XD I hope you enjoy, either way.

* * *

Squall angrily wrung out the bloody cloth, watching the tendrils of red become obliterated in the rushing river current. When it ran clean, he dipped the cloth back into the river once more before hurrying back into the trees, glancing left to right before diving behind a boulder into a hidden little cove.

The limp body awaiting him nearly made Squall drop the rag and panic, but the bloodied blond head lifted up upon hearing his footfalls, blue eyes opening and showing all the pain and misery the still bleeding bullet wound inflicted.

Squall knelt down next to hurt Zidane, carefully peeling off the ripped cloth he had set before going to the river. Even with the bullet removed and several minutes of pressure was applied, the wound was bleeding furiously. If he had any junctioned, Squall would have used Cure, but none of his drawing capabilities seemed to have crossed over. Potions were rare as hell this far away from Sanctuary, and they had already exhausted most if not all of their supplies.

In occurred to Squall that Zidane just might not make it back to Sanctuary, and he slapped the damp cloth against the chest wound and pressed hard.

Zidane whined, eyes closing tightly as he fought tears of pain. The manikins weren't a challenge, most of the time, but the blond was not accustomed to the weaponry people like Squall and Laguna brought. At least with Squall it was majorly sword-like damage… but whatever it was that Laguna used, Zidane could not dodge, and it hurt like hell for being so small.

A gentle hand grazed Zidane's forehead, almost apologetic, and Zidane hazard a chance to open his eyes. Several stripes of bloodied cloth, formerly white, littered the cove floor. His own vest was on a rock, covered in what Squall called 'bullet' holes, the undershirt having been the first sacrifice for bandages. Squall's white shirt followed, and the only thing keeping Zidane remotely warm was Squall's leather jacket, which he lamented was getting blood on it.

Knowing they couldn't stay much longer, Squall unbuckled one of his many belts. As he reinforced the flimsy dressing and looped the belt around Zidane, Squall wished he knew where Bartz had run off too. His miming abilities, particularly that of Lightning and her curative magic, would have been incredibly helpful.

"We have to go," Squall murmured. "This is gonna hurt, but we have to keep pressure."

Zidane didn't answer, and Squall tightened the belt. Zidane would have trouble breathing, but as it was, he wasn't taking very deep breaths anyway. If he could get to a Teleport Stone, he could get the thief to Cosmos…

Squall grabbed what cloth he could salvage, including Zidane's vest, before securing his jacket around the shaking, slender body. With murmured encouragement and being as careful as possible, Squall managed to get Zidane onto his back, arms around his neck. Squall hefted him up a little higher, apologizing when Zidane whined in protest. The blond secured in his hold, Squall exited the cove; sure it was clear, he made a dash toward the nearest gateway.

Battles with manikins were nearly impossible to avoid, but either Squall was lucky or Cosmos blessed them, he managed to avoid fighting. The mercenary was glad, for once, for all the emphasis his old Garden instructor had put into dodging.

Night rapidly fell, and still they were half a day's walk from Sanctuary. Squall stood under a cliff, staring at the darkening sky and wondering if he should chance a mad run.

"Don't…" Squall glanced over his shoulder as Zidane lifted his head, his face deathly pale. "Don't… push yourself, Squ…"

The appearance of his thief made up his mind, and Squall's frown was absolute. "I'm not going to lose you to some manikin… especially one of _Laguna_."

Zidane probably had something to say, but he didn't have to strength to say it. Squall tilted his head slightly so his forehead touched Zidane's temple in a rare display of tender affection.

"Stay awake for me," Squall muttered.

"Easy," Zidane muttered, even as he sounded so far away, so weak. "Bouncing… a lot…"

Squall rubbed his forehead against Zidane for a moment, then re-securing his hold, began another run for Sanctuary. He knew once he got there, he'd collapse, but so long as he made it and got Zidane there, it was worth it.

* * *

Squall woke up to the Warrior of Light about to place another potion-soaked cloth on his leg. The stoic man regarded Squall with silent scrutiny, even as the mercenary looked around in confusion. When did he get here?

"You are safe now," the Warrior said, drawing Squall's attention. "You came rushing in, panicking. I managed to bring you to Cosmos after you collapsed."

Squall didn't remember, but he didn't really care. Both of his legs, and his back, throbbed with a sharp, persistent pain, and even that he didn't care about. He swung his legs over the side of the bed-like thing he was resting on, and the cool water of Sanctuary's ground felt better to his aching feet than any potion concoction.

"Zidane?" Squall asked, not even caring at his anxious and worried tone.

"Cosmos was able to save him," The Warrior replied, "Be sure to express your gratitude before embarking on another journey."

Squall didn't need a reminder of etiquette, but at the same time, he did have an issue with doing simple things. The Warrior of Light probably knew that. "Thank you," Squall said.

The Warrior dropped the cloth he was using into a nearby basin. "Zidane is with Cosmos at her throne. He's probably waiting for you."

With that, the Warrior handed Squall a bundle of clothes. Only then realizing he had been stripped to his under garments, Squall had the decency to glance away until the Warrior left. There was no real privacy in Sanctuary, but he looked alone enough, and Squall dressed quickly. His usual pants, belt and accessories were within the bundle, but only a black tank top was offered as a shirt. Figuring it could be worse, Squall shrugged the thing on, secured his precious pendant and ring, and went for the throne. His weaponry was probably with Cosmos, at least he hoped it was.

Thoughts of his weapons left him when Squall saw the top of Zidane's head, his hair clean of blood and dirt. The thief was talking, lively as usual, to Cosmos, even smiling—the sight brought a sense of relief to Squall, a feeling he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Despite it, he leisurely walked toward the Goddess and her warrior, lengthening his stride a bit when Zidane turned to him and smiled brilliantly.

Zidane also had a bit of a wardrobe change, keeping the same style except the cloth was dark gray. Squall found himself quite liking the darker contrast, slowing his walk so he had a somewhat valid excuse to study the blond. He looked fully recovered, even his tail was twitching happily.

Finally the brunette drew close, and Cosmos offered him a small smile.

"Zidane has told me of your heroic effort to save him," she said, causing the thief to lightly blush. "Indeed, Squall, I commend you for your hasty arrival. If I had lost a Warrior…" she let the sentence hang, her saddened eyes expressive enough.

"Squall plays it cool, but he'd save any of us in a heartbeat, wouldn't ya, Squall?" Zidane grinned at him.

Squall grunted, unsure of how to act on the feeling he felt churning within him. Instead of answering that, the mercenary looked to Cosmos, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, "Thank you, for saving him."

That shocked Zidane—as this was Squall, his socially impaired _Squall_—but the Goddess' tiny smile returned.

"I know how much he means to you," both men looked to the side, away from each other, and her smile grew just a bit. "Thank you, Squall, for your part."

Even if he never put much faith in divinity, it still felt strange, humbling, to be thanked by a Goddess. Squall could only give a small shrug.

"Please remain within Sanctuary now," Cosmos said, "until you are both fully healed. It would be futile to head back to the battlefield so soon. As well, the rest of your comrades will be joining you. I have… something important for you all."

Realizing she had essentially dismissed them, Zidane took the opportunity to grab Squall's hand. Squall was about to snatch it away—they were _public_ after all—but the smile on his face, the look in his eyes, made Squall pause.

A second later, his hand closed over Zidane's, letting the blond pull him away from the Goddess.

* * *

"I think," Zidane whispered breathlessly, "that constitutes a 'thank you for saving my life.'"

"Is that so?" Squall muttered, a rare smirk rising to his lips. "So do I want to know how you thanked Cosmos?"

Zidane let out an offended noise, shoving Squall hard enough to break their embrace. The mercenary hit the ground with a thump and small splash, but he was grinning at his own clever joke.

"I'm known to be _highly_ respectable to women, thank you," Zidane retorted, their frenzied session no longer hindering his breathing. He sure bounced back easily.

"Is that what they call it?" Squall asked. The only thing saving him from further abuse was his hands slowly trailing up Zidane's thighs. "Speaking of the incident, you do that again, I'll kill you."

"I'll let you have the Laguna-clones from here on," Zidane's tail wagged in the air mischievously. "You seem more accustomed to dodging… whazzitcalled… gun blaze?"

"Gunfire," Squall corrected, sitting up so he could wrap his arms around Zidane again. One hand found the waving tail, gently massaging, and Zidane positively melted in his arms. "It would have been legendary irony if you were fired down by a Laguna clone."

Zidane could barely manage a, "Why's that?" between little moans as Squall leisurely stroked his tail.

"Because he's a moron," Squall corrected himself. Zidane began to impatiently move in his lap, practically thrumming with excitement. The mercenary decided talking was over for now, and he laid Zidane onto his back.

Offhandedly as he kissed him, Squall wondered what happened to his jacket.

When they had redressed, Zidane ran his hands along the almost silk-like fabric of Squall's new black, sleeveless shirt. His hands first went up Squall's chest, then back down to his stomach, before going around his waist to his back. Zidane embraced him tightly, moreso than when they were making love, and nuzzled his head against Squall's stomach with his eyes tightly closed.

Squall put one hand on Zidane's shoulder, the other petting his hair. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I admit to being scared," the blond muttered, pressing his cheek harder against the well-toned stomach. "I… I didn't want to die. Even if death here may, in a slim chance, mean going home as some think… I don't want to die and leave you."

"Well, you didn't," Squall reasoned, plucking Zidane's hair tie from his pocket and pulling the blond locks into a loose ponytail for him. "Now we'll just be more careful to avoid other near-death experiences."

Zidane looked up at him and smiled, making Squall's heart wrench. He had been so against this relationship before, but now, he couldn't really imagine remaining sane in this conflict without Zidane. And to think he nearly lost that smile…

"You're right," Zidane teased, "you'd be lost without me!"

Squall scoffed. "Not really," he muttered, at the same time Zidane did, although the thief was much more cheerful.

Squall glared, and Zidane hugged him tighter with a boyish smile on his face, tail swinging happily in the air. The hard look was lost, and Squall sighed, but he rubbed Zidane's head affectionately.

Voices in the distance drew their attention, and Zidane pulled away as he realized they would soon be 'public.' He stood on his toes, grasping Squall's shirt and tried to yank him down. Squall resisted, lips hovering teasingly above Zidane's, and the thief whined in protest.

"Behave," Squall lightly admonished before giving him a quick kiss.

Since he was indulged, Zidane resolved to behave just this once. He grinned, ever so cheerful, and ran off to meet their comrades.

Squall straightened his clothes before also moving toward the voices, summoning his gunblade for good measure and resting it on his shoulder. Hopefully, they brought good news with them.


	6. Third Opinion

**Author's Note**: Am I the only one tempted to try and make some crazy Squall/Zidane original quest in 012? Hehe. Also, sorry for the abruptness in some parts of this chapter, but I really couldn't find ways to string the events the way I wanted… I'll try again later, but for now, this'll work. Besides, the whole 'story' is set up to just be connected 'one-shots', so I think this works well enough! ^^;

* * *

"C'mooooon…" Zidane whined, grabbing onto Squall's arm. Bartz gave a similar whine, grabbing the mercenary's other arm, much to his chagrin.

"No," Squall tried to shake them off, but they were steadfast.

"I get you saying no to _me_," Bartz prodded, "but to _Zidane_? That's cruel, Squall!"

"See? Even Bartz agrees!"

Squall tilted his head away, closing his eyes in his classic annoyed expression. _He'd agree with you about anything…_

"Just for a little while!" Zidane continued, tail twitching impatiently. "I'll give it back! You can trust me!" and with that, he pulled his most adorable, pathetic face he could.

Squall knew he was going to do it, and he tried resisting the urge to look. "Seriously, you guys, this isn't the time…"

"Pleeeeease?" Zidane hopped up unexpectedly, wrapping his legs around Squall's waist and nearly toppling him over. Squall, with Bartz' help, managed to avoid slamming into the ground and he tucked one arm under Zidane's bottom to avoid him falling.

_What the hell_, Squall thought. _Why all of this… I… guess it's all right if he just wants to _borrow_ it…_

When he sighed, Zidane hissed in victory, his tail even doing what seemed to be a triumphant dance. Resigned, Squall got loose from Bartz and pulled the ring off his hand, offering it to Zidane.

"Don't lose it," he warned.

Zidane made an almost feminine happy-sounding noise as he took the glinting jewelry, eyes shining. As it appeared, he had no intention of hopping down; Squall also resigned himself to carrying the slender boy on his hip like a kid. Which, when Bartz was around, was what it felt like…

Bartz went over to the side Zidane hung off of, and the two of them ooh'd and ahh'd at the ring as they resumed their trek. Zidane pulled off his left glove and, to Squall's horror, slipped the ring onto his ring finger.

"It's so cool," Bartz commented, obviously unaware of what Zidane just did.

Apparently the thief was oblivious also, but it didn't make Squall feel much better. "It is," the blond agreed. "But it's too big…"

Zidane pulled his glove back on, but his small frown persisted. "It may still fall off… oh." Zidane blinked as Bartz swung a silver chain between his eyes.

"So you wear it like a pendant!" Ever so helpful, that was Bartz.

With a happy grin, Zidane took the chain, removed the ring from his hand and put it on the necklace, then looped it around his neck. The entire time, Squall remained quiet and tried not to be silly and go back to his first, initial reaction.

_You'll be the death of me._

* * *

Bartz sometimes regretted going with Zidane and Squall when they bickered like this. He always sat just a few feet away from them, watching and listening as Squall coldly said something or other that got hot-headed Zidane started, quietly observing unless it got really bad. But then eventually one of them (usually Zidane) said something that made the other (usually Squall) feel bad, and they end up making up. And all Bartz did was watch (unless it got really bad, then he played mediator of course), so he felt more like a third wheel most of the time.

At the same time, though, he quite enjoyed the progress of his friends' so-called secret relationship. Squall definitely was warming up to people, showing more of himself to others, and Zidane was settling down and didn't act on raw emotions all the time. And it wasn't as if they ignored him or anything—Zidane still had races and treasure hunts, and Squall still lectured and treated him like a kid (although Bartz was fairly sure he was older than both of them).

"Damn it all!" Squall's outburst brought Bartz out of his thinking and he stiffened, poised to jump in and try to mediate. "That's _it_!"

"Oh, is it?" Zidane sneered. "You're my boyfriend, Squall, not my keeper!"

"You want me to express myself more, now you don't! Just—" Squall took a deep breath, and Bartz had to admit it was funny seeing him have an emotional burst like Zidane. "You know what? I'm going to go."

That made Zidane pause. "… What do you mean, go?"

"_Go_. Bartz, watch him." With that, Squall picked up his things and began to walk off.

Zidane's characteristic hot-headedness flared and he started after the mercenary. "We're not going to split like this! Squall!"

Bartz decided this was where he should intervene—being the only rational one, the irony—and he grabbed Zidane by the arm. "You both need to cool down," Bartz reasoned, even as Zidane glared. "Don't worry, he'll be back. He's just really worried about you, you know, he doesn't mean to try and control you. He'll be back when he's calmed down."

Bartz hoped so anyway.

Of course, Bartz had this weird good-luck-bad-luck thing going on. He was getting lucky on his battles against the manikins—and his winning streak against Zidane—but his bad luck was, Squall wasn't reappearing any time soon.

Two days away and Zidane was starting to fret. He wanted to stay in one place, to wait for Squall, but Bartz just couldn't do that. He couldn't leave Zidane either, so he ended up finding ways of dragging the thief along. He reasoned with him, told him it'd be okay, the usual best friend routine. Zidane was getting emotional, and Bartz had to be the cool-headed one and remind him that Squall wasn't someone like Yuna, who needed the protector.

That wasn't fair to Yuna, but since she told him about the whole 'guardianship' system of her homeworld, he couldn't help but view her as the classic 'damsel' type.

Bartz started catching Zidane messing with Squall's ring that he kept on the necklace, flicking it around with his fingers as he looked to the distance, probably hoping to see the mercenary. By the sixth day, even Bartz was getting worried and antsy.

"Maybe he went back to Sanctuary?" Zidane reasoned, trying to reassure himself. "Squall's level-headed, right? He'd go back; he wouldn't be stupid and travel alone, right?"

Actually, yes he would, but Bartz didn't say that. "He probably ran into other Cosmos Warriors, y'know? Helping them out and what not."

Zidane gnawed on the thumb of his glove, tail twitching. Bartz distracted him with a treasure hunt, but those distractions were getting less and less effective as time went on. The wanderer was half tempted to steer them back to Sanctuary himself.

* * *

They ran into Laguna, who apparently came from Squall's homeworld. Bartz took an instant liking to the guy—he was a simple guy, like Bartz himself, if maybe a little simple-minded. He had never really 'properly' met Laguna til now, and it was pretty cool to get to talk to him. Zidane also liked him, at first, until Laguna did the most stupid thing Bartz thought anyone could do.

He yanked Zidane's tail.

The man didn't just grab the tail, like most did. Zidane was learning tails were something everyone wasn't used to, and he usually took random grabbing in good stride—he even managed to turn it into a flirt-fest when Yuna couldn't resist getting a hold of it—but Laguna grabbed it and pulled it so hard, Bartz was sure Zidane was nearly in tears.

Well, he would have been if he hadn't turned around and nearly ripped Laguna's eyes out of his skull. Bartz was starting to really get used to playing peacemaker! Laguna had apologized profusely, but Zidane refused to speak to him and stayed far away when possible. Bartz was finding this to be a real strain on their quest and general fun.

One night before they retired, Bartz had to ask the question he knew was burning in Zidane, "Hey, Laguna, you're from Squall's world, right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Laguna looked up from the sorry bowl of gruel they managed to put together. "How's he been?"

"I was gonna ask if you've seen him, actually…" Bartz felt a little let down. "We… got separated."

Laguna touched his chin in thought, glancing skyward as he did so. The pensive look sort of reminded Bartz of Squall, but the man didn't wear the expression for long. Flicking back some of his hair, Laguna grinned as he said, "Oh yeah, saw him a few days before running into you two."

"You did?"

Zidane practically pounced on the gunner from seemingly nowhere, making him jump. "Was he okay?" Zidane demanded, tail ramrod straight and bristling. "You didn't just let him go on his own, did you?"

Laguna slowly inched away from Zidane, chuckling a bit as if that would help. "H-he was okay, went off with Light and a few others."

It was sort of amusing to see Zidane practically deflate in what Bartz hoped was relief, moving off to perch himself in the branches of a nearby tree. Laguna rubbed his chin again, not missing Zidane's change in attitude.

With a bit of a joking tone, Laguna asked, "Don't worry about him—my boy's made of tougher stuff! Takes after his mom, you know."

If Bartz thought Zidane's relief was funny, the way he fell out of the tree was immensely moreso. The indignant 'what' after the loud thump made it _perfect_.


	7. Fun Times

**Author's Note:** Well, I'm not entirely too sure what else I could put into this fic after this lol (my way of saying my muse died XD ) So a part of me wants to say Familiar is done, but one never knows what may come up as I continue to play Dissidia... so, while the tag will say the story is complete, I may or may not continue the 'one-shot collection' motif. I kinda wanna write a different 8x9 fic, but I'm still debating. Thanks for all the readers and reviews, *luff* to you all ^_^

* * *

Squall knew his reunion with Zidane would eventually lead to the blond yelling at him, once they were alone together. He rehearsed the entire thing in his head each day he was apart from his lover, knowing what would be flung at him and how to react. Squall had no intention of apologizing—he was perfectly valid in his want to protect Zidane—and knew the words, and actions, to get himself forgiven without having to utter those stupid two words.

Once his group met back up with Bartz and Zidane—and crap, there's Laguna—Squall _was_ prepared for Zidane jumping on his back. That was borderline PDA, but Squall indulged him when he realized just how worried he made the thief, even carrying him the short walk back to the main camp. Once there, Zidane was good and jumped down, but he gave Squall the 'we are _so_ duking it out later!' glare, one that Squall often had to fight himself against smirking over.

Squall was also coming to truly appreciate the shared friendship he and Zidane had with Bartz. The mime obviously knew they needed to speak privately and, with just a smile and thumbs up to them both, managed to make enough of a clamoring charade to get everyone's attention so that the couple could slip away for a few moments. Squall resolved himself to find some way to thank Bartz for all his support.

Once alone, Squall prepared himself for the outburst. However, the first thing out of Zidane's mouth actually temporarily stunned the mercenary stupid.

"Why the _hell_ didn't you say Laguna was your _dad_?"

Squall stared for several seconds, his brain trying to register what he heard. When it finally clicked, he frowned a bit. _Damn man opened his big mouth._ "It's not important."

Zidane's look contradicted that statement. "Not _important_? Squall, this is your _father_!"

_Big damn deal._ "And?"

Whatever sort of world Zidane came from, Squall was starting to figure out it was along the lines of real, old-school medieval bullshit. "We have to tell him," Zidane said, then started to pace nervously, tail twitching. "I gotta properly meet your father, but, how the hell can I introduce myself? I can't come off weak and let you do it, I'm still a guy, but…" the rest was lost to mumbling, and to the fact Squall facepalmed himself hard enough to jar his senses for a few seconds.

"_No_," that made Zidane pause, and Squall stressed the word again, "_No_, we do _not_ have to tell him."

"Yes, we do!" Zidane protested. "Fathers should always meet their children's… significant other! And they…"

Squall cut him off again. "Zidane, I didn't know Laguna was my dad until we ended up here. Eighteen years without him, I can go another fifty just fine. He doesn't need to know—plus, where I come from, men sleeping together aren't normal."

Zidane frowned. Squall had once explained his homeworld's views on men seeking solace in other men, how it was commonly perceived. Although from what Zidane recalled of his, there was no stigma attached other than being unable to offer a child, so naturally the royals couldn't indulge in it. As far as he knew, though, Squall wasn't of royal lineage, and neither was Zidane himself, so…

"Still…" Zidane frowned, and Squall could tell he was quite bothered by all of this. "It just… doesn't feel right, not telling your dad. Even if he only revealed himself to you now… at least you know you have a father now. The one who brought you into the world."

"And left me alone in it," Squall spat, but he knew well Zidane's concern with the matter. "Fine, if it means that much to you, we'll pull him aside—_far away from camp_—and tell him. Just know I don't give a damn about what he thinks, and even if he screams we shouldn't, I'm not going to listen to him and you damn well better not either."

Zidane finally smiled, and Squall couldn't believe what he just agreed to. Maybe he should have just said he was sorry for being an overprotective, hard-headed jerk.

* * *

Laguna would admit in a heartbeat he was pretty worried when his son, the guy with a tail and the weird mime all three approached him and wanted to speak to him away from the main party. Not that he was worried for his life, mind you—yes, he and Squall were still on shaky ground and all, but they were kind of friends! It was progress—but it was still worrisome.

When they deemed it far enough away, Bartz stood behind Squall and Zidane, a hand on each of their shoulders. Squall looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here, and Zidane had a… was that a blush?

"So…" Laguna started slowly. "What's up?"

Zidane had thought very critically on how to do this over the few days after Squall finally agreeing to it, but now that he was doing it, he felt incredible nervousness. While _his_ upbringing didn't include condemning same-gender couples, Squall's apparently did… what if, even if Squall didn't remember, it came from Laguna? The thought hadn't occurred until they were half-way here, far too late to back out.

"Laguna…" Zidane said, carefully. He would defer to Laguna's last name, respectfully, if it were normal circumstance. But he was a male, with another male, and he had to assert his… well, manliness. "I wasn't aware of your… relation to Squall, that you were his father…"

"Ah, yeah," Laguna winced when Squall glared at him. "I… actually wasn't supposed to say that. If that's what this about, I'm totally sorry, man. I just wanted to reassure them you were okay and… that's the first thing that came to mind, it wasn't like I was trying to… you know, slander you or… well, hey, I was being honest and all and—"

Squall tilted his head in annoyance, huffing. "Zidane is my boyfriend."

"—I honestly believed that… er, what?" Laguna blinked.

There was a very long, silent pause. Eventually, Bartz coughed, wanting to dispel the awkwardness and get on with his life. The sound made Laguna blink again.

"Come again?" the gunner asked.

Zidane was still too mortified at how nonchalant Squall said it the first time, so the mercenary had to say it again himself, "Zidane's my boyfriend. I'm dating him. I'm sleeping with him—" Zidane covered his face in shame; why did Squall have no _tact_? "—and he wanted you to know, since you're my 'father' and all that."

Laguna went silent again, then slowly rubbed the back of his head. "Well," he said thoughtfully. "I did tell you to expand your horizontals."

"_Horizons_."

"Whatever. But, aw, you wanted to tell me?" at this, Laguna smiled, and Zidane peeked from between his fingers to see what was going on. "You actually… wanted my approval?"

"Hell no," Squall huffed. "Zidane comes from an old-fashioned world—he _insisted_ we tell you."

Laguna felt a little upset—he wanted to have some sort of father-son connection with Squall, after all—but he knew it would be a long time coming, if ever, given this was a battlefield. "Well," the hand he used to rub the back of his head now shaded his eyes for no reason. "That's good, because I don't have the right to approve or disapprove what you do. One, you're an adult, and two, I only recently started trying to be your dad, and this sort of thing requires years of family-time."

Squall actually felt a little surprised. "You're not…?"

"Why would I be? I'm just glad you trust _someone_!" Laguna smiled wider. "Plus, love is love; I can't hold that against you!" he looked at Zidane, and suddenly the smile disappeared, making the thief tense. "Although you're eighteen, Squall… you sure Zidane's legal?"

"… legal?" Zidane dropped his hands from his face, looking up at Squall, who was facepalming himself.

Laguna was suddenly kneeling in front of Zidane, making him yelp and jump back a bit. Guy was fast! "How _old_ are you, Zidane?" Laguna asked, rather seriously.

"Six…teen…"

"_Sixteen_?" Laguna stood up and grabbed a fistful of his shirt over his heart as if he were punched. "Squall, _Squall_, he's sixteen! He's underage!"

Squall's snappy 'I'm aware of that!' overlapped Zidane's indignant 'I am _of age_!' in such a way, Bartz couldn't help but nearly fall over laughing.

The mime had come to play emotional support, but as Laguna continue to lament Squall's 'sinful urges' and the two protesting it, he found himself simply here to enjoy the spectacle.

Life was fun.


End file.
